


Yes, Tom - Chapter 29 (Finale)

by riddlemetitillatedhiddles (ninecats)



Series: Yes, Tom [32]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninecats/pseuds/riddlemetitillatedhiddles





	Yes, Tom - Chapter 29 (Finale)

Oddly enough, I slept soundly that night and did not dream at all. Even nightmares, which usually kept me tossing and turning when Tom and I had problems, were kept at bay. Despite not having heard from him, perhaps I still felt relaxed enough subconsciously, now that I'd made a decision regarding our relationship, to feel a little at peace. It was short-lived though. When my phone rang at 4:45AM, I woke with a start, thinking it was Tom. It was just my alarm. I sat on the bed staring at my phone in disbelief. I'd called him almost 12 hours prior and yet there were no calls, no voicemails, no texts. Tears sprang to my eyes before I even had a chance to process my emotions. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to calm myself and center my thoughts. It was a struggle, though. I wasn't thinking very clearly.

Now awake, Jenny could tell immediately what was wrong. I'd told her what was going on the night before when she got home.  As she grabbed the remote to turn on the TV, she asked me gently, "So he still hasn't called you back?"

"No," I replied, my voice sounding as defeated as I felt.

"Would he come here to surprise you?" she offered, trying to keep my thoughts as positive as possible.

"I don't know… Maybe." I shrugged, my attempt at nonchalance failing miserably. I couldn't help it, though. It was a natural reaction for me when I felt defensive. "I know he was invited. You'd think he would at least send a text or something, though."

"Maybe he couldn't for some reason?"

"Yeah, I know. You're right."

"If he proposes again are you going to say yes?"

"I don't know. Probably," I admitted, although I quickly clarified, "I'm upset, but I'm trying really hard not to over-react. I'm sure there's a reason why he hasn't contacted me." I was. _Trying._ Trying not to assume. Not necessarily succeeding. Well, at least not fully. In my mind, I still grappled constantly with this built-up idea of Sophie, trying not to let her, or it, swallow me whole. I wanted to stop letting it control me, and I'd succeeded in some respects. For example, when I had finally looked at it rationally, I _knew_ that Tom hadn't cheated on me. If anything, there was simply no time. We'd spent virtually every moment together since we met. Our whole life, and it was _one_ life, was so intricately structured around our dynamic and Tom's career that there was really no room for anything else. Of course we went places and saw friends, but it was always together. We were incredibly co-dependent. 

This realization helped me make a life-altering decision. About Tom, Sophie, everything. The decision that in my heart I had known all along I would make, but that fear had kept me from embracing. I wanted more than anything to be with Tom. With him, I'd found a happiness, a fulfillment, that I had never thought possible. It was the stuff in movies, the kind of bliss I thought wasn't real. Romantic, dizzying, all-encompassing love. The kind of love that, when I looked up at the clear blue sky overhead, all I could see was him: Tom. The one person that completed me in every way, that terrified and calmed me at once, that stimulated my body, mind, and soul. But not only was this love real, it was actually, strangely and amazingly, empowering. I found the strength I needed to value myself enough to step away and assess things with a clear mind and an open heart. Even though it was painful and difficult for both of us, this temporary absence was integral to the health and strength of our relationship.

Now, as I stood on this precipice, ready to make my final leap of faith, Tom was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was appropriate that I had to do this part alone. While I almost always assumed the worst, using it as a kind of self-defense to protect myself from any possible source of stress or pain, this time I was resolved not to make this same mistake. Everything we had achieved in our relationship was from constant struggle. I couldn't seriously think that this would be any different. The effort was staggering, but the rewards were gratifying like nothing else. I thought back to that first insanely impulsive day when Tom and I had leapt together, uncertain but both somehow trusting the other. We both gave so much so quickly, to abandon that now, to give up trust now, seemed counter-intuitive. Or at the very least, rash. And Tom had trusted me with much more, really, than I had with him. At first, anyway. I could at least afford him the same respect.

I _was_ still upset. I _was_ still hurt. I likely would be for quite some time. Especially if Sophie actually was pregnant with Tom's child, since I'd have a daily reminder of the source of my insecurity. Maybe counseling could help. Our relationship, even aside from the dynamic that magnified things so profoundly, had progressed so hastily, had intensified so fast, anyone, no matter what, would have had problems. The issues we needed to address, in most relationships would have lessened gradually over time. But for us, we didn't get that luxury. Trust and honesty suffered as we were unable to re-acclimate quickly enough from our past relationships and mis-steps. But I wanted to forgive. I wanted to forgive us both our shortcomings. I wanted to stop reacting to everything as if it were the end of the world. I wanted to stop punishing Tom for having fleeting, leftover feelings when he loved and was committed to me. Bringing it up constantly wasn't helping, it was hindering. And more than anything, I needed and wanted both of us to communicate our fears, not hide them to avoid confrontation. 

Always, even as a little girl, I looked for the quick fix, the easy way out of any stressful situation. Once I got older and began to have relationships, it only exacerbated my tendencies. Sometimes that even meant avoidance to the point of running away to another country to get away from the source. I'd done it with Michael and Tom both, albeit for different reasons. Tom did the same thing, too, really. Avoided the issue, hoping it would go away. But he had never lied to me, other than by omission. Yes, it still hurt. Neither of us was blameless, though. After searching my heart and soul, I believed wholeheartedly that he was telling me the truth. I knew he became insanely insecure when it came to Sophie, and the more I had thought about it, attempted to rationally assess the situation, the more I understood. Especially considering our relationship's origins. We hadn't fallen in love so much as we had crashed together like some sort of celestial collision, completely by chance, completely explosive and inadvertent and disastrous and beautiful. We had barely even met at that point, let alone gotten to know each other. We had no way of knowing our connection would be so strong, so life-altering. And once I was able to put emotion aside, at least temporarily, I could easily understand why Tom sought solace with me after that last painful night with Sophie. Why he had chosen not to wait, and instead had put all of his cards on the table, begging me to take him as he was, knowing that I could easily reject him. Why he'd endeavored to forget, even why he'd felt compelled to show her he had moved on and was the better for it.  I understood. Really, we weren't so different.

Was I giving him too much credit? I had no way of knowing, of course. But one thing I did know for certain, above anything else, was that Chris wouldn't lie to me. He had assured me that Tom loved me, wanted to move on, and planned to marry me. And Tom _was_ with me, not Sophie. Whenever Tom had tried to get serious in our relationship, take things to the next level, I was the one that had balked, consciously or not, pulling back slightly or creating some kind of conflict that gave me an escape, just in case things didn't work out. It was somehow so easy to give him everything sexually, but emotionally, I held back, withholding out of fear. I was tired of it. If I wasn't giving him everything, how could I be upset if he failed to do the same? 

Before I left, I retrieved the broken padlock, hidden in the bottom of my suitcase. With some help from a pair of pliers the front desk had lent me, I managed to close it at least enough that I could wear it again. It looked ridiculous, really. A slightly mangled piece of gold and metal, but Tom's initials were still intact. I found a simple, long silver necklace that I rarely wore and replaced the pendant with the padlock. It was just long enough so that I could hide it under the front of my dress. The moment I put it back on, I felt a sense of peace. No matter what, I wanted to work things out. I loved Tom. He was the person I wanted to be with, for the rest of my life. I was finally ready. I just hoped I hadn't waited too long.

 

****

The day was so hectic, I barely even had time to think. I still checked my phone obsessively, but Tom was nowhere to be found. Even as everyone began to arrive on the red carpet, I still didn't know where he was. I texted Chris, asking if he'd heard anything, but he told me he hadn't either. I made a conscious effort to focus on logical things, like that Tom was on a plane to Los Angeles, or that he'd misplaced his phone, or something like that. But then, as if fate wanted to fuck with me as much as possible to test my resolve, I got a call from Jenny.

"Ellie… Tom's here. He's signing autographs near the front."

My heart sank. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. Did he still not…"

Despite my best efforts to control it, my voice cracked as I replied, "No." I didn't want to ruin my makeup, so I exhaled sharply, leaning my head back to stem the flow of tears. 

Unfortunately, _I_ was on the red carpet. Leading up to the actual start of the film, I was one of a handful of PAs delegated with keeping a list of people, famous and otherwise, from getting lost or sidetracked, ensuring they ended up in the actual theater once the movie started. Tom wasn't on my list, but if he was already there, signing autographs and making his way inside, our paths would most certainly intersect. I wasn't exactly prepared, considering he hadn't bothered to even text me. Still trying to stay strong, I reassured myself that there must be a perfectly good reason.

"God, I'm really, really sorry. Give me a second and I'll come up where you are. You can take a break." Jenny had just arrived, having spent the morning as an errand-runner, and was making her way towards the theater.

"Okay," I managed, barely audible over my pitiful sniffling. Before hanging up, I thanked her and started looking for the nearest escape route just in case. My post was right near the photographers, so it was very loud and incredibly chaotic. Nervously I scanned the groups of people milling about, searching for Jenny and Tom while trying not to miss anyone on my list. And that was when, over the din of the crowd, I heard that unmistakable voice. 

"Elizabeth!" 

I turned, my legs already weak, and there was Tom, a huge grin on his face. In front of everyone, he rather frantically began to make his way towards me. Of course, the shortest route happened to be via a throng of photographers and equipment, so he kept apologizing the entire way as he attempted to navigate the path without causing a disaster. Upon finally reaching me, he stopped, breathless and expectant. I did, too, the moment engulfed by a cacophony of emotions and the noise of a million persons that my brain stopped acknowledging. The world continued to spin around us, the noise and the lights and the urgency, but we stood perfectly, exquisitely still. A mere second, lengthened by the weight of significance and anticipation, became the most important moment of my life.

He embraced me. He wrapped his arms around me, exhaling with relief, his breath warm and soothing against my cheek. His fingers gripped my waist tightly, and I couldn't help but reciprocate fully, completely melting into his touch as I clung to him. I felt whole again. Every single thing I'd harbored faded away when he touched me. Every single thing save how totally, utterly in love with him I was and how much I knew I wanted no-one else, wanted nothing else but him. One strong hand moved to the nape of my neck before he whispered, "I love you. I missed you so much, darling…" Pressing his lips to mine, he kissed me tenderly but eagerly, despite the public forum and our separation, despite it all. It was as if we had never been apart.

"I missed you, too…" My words became a sigh as he held me closer, comforting me. Opening my eyes, I realized there were people watching us. Before I could say anything, he took me by the hand and led me inside, past the flashing cameras and the random gawkers, past the held out microphones and anyone who tried to call his name or get an interview, past the entire world, his focus solely on me. Pride surged through me, my face flush and warm, a combination of lust and bashfulness. It was the first time I'd been with him where there was no question we were together. Our fingers interlocked, mimicking our hearts, and we were one. No question. I was his, and I knew. I knew immediately I was right. He loved me. He loved _me_. 

Once we got inside, we found a quiet, out of the way corner to talk. The first thing out of his mouth, an insistent plea to clarify everything, "Elizabeth, I want to explain about Sophie…"

"I'm not…" I took a deep breath, trying to think of how to explain it. "I mean, it's okay. I'm upset, but I'm dealing. We weren't even together, and I know you didn't cheat on me…"

"Really? Because darling I _need_ you to know for certain. I love you and you're the only one…"

" _Really_ ," I assured him. "Really. You couldn't have, and I know that. Plus, I talked with Chris and he helped me think more clearly about the situation. He explained a lot about Sophie."

"Did he tell you everything?" 

"Well I don't know about _everything_ but he told me enough. It's okay, I do understand why you did what you did, and I forgive you."

He exhaled slowly before leaning in and brushing his lips against mine, the stress and worry dissipating with his breath. "You don't know how happy that makes me, darling…"

"But," my bottom lip started to tremble and my voice quavered slightly, "why didn't you call me?" I pulled away and looked up at him, my eyes anticipative, my entire heart open and vulnerable. Emotions, all of them, poured forth, completely unabated. Stoically, I tried to keep the tears from falling, but it just constricted my throat and made me sound strangled and pathetic. "I really thought you'd given up on me…"

"Oh god. _Never._ I never gave up." He grabbed my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake as he said it again, "I never gave up. I never would." 

"But then…"

Earnestly he began to speak, detailing everything in a flurry of atypically straightforward prose. "I'm so _so_ sorry. See, when I heard your message I was so happy that I got the first flight out. I thought I'd surprise you, but I broke my mobile and I couldn't remember your number, or anyone else's for that matter, and when I got here, nobody would give it to me… Elizabeth, I tried and they said they couldn't, even though they know we're together… well we _were_ I guess…"

I'd totally forgotten that I told Marvel not to share my information with Tom. Gingerly, I brushed an errant hair from his forehead. "Oh god. That was my fault: I told them not to tell you where I was. I'm sorry. I thought I wanted… I don't know what I wanted. I guess I needed time to think. About everything. I know how hard it was for you. Thank you for letting me."

He kind of rolled his eyes, and suddenly he was rather self-conscious in front of me. "Well, I honestly didn't do a very good job of it."

"You didn't follow me straightaway, and that means a lot. I know how badly you wanted to. You're allowed to have emotions and you're allowed to make mistakes, just like I am. I promise I won't forget that again." My hands in his, I found his eyes and made sure he looked right at me. I needed us to be on the same page. "But, Tom, we never _weren't_. That's not what I wanted and it absolutely is not what I want now. We still… _are_ … I mean, unless you don't…" My brow furrowed slightly but I didn't look away. I made sure to keep my eyes locked on Tom's. From this point on, it was imperative that we were open, and honest, and trusted each other totally.

"Of course I want to be with you! My god, Elizabeth. You're… you're my _everything_. You make life worth living, darling, you're my heart and soul and ev-…"

I interrupted him, "Tom…" Sighing softly, I made sure to keep my voice as gentle as possible as I urged him, "Please can you just _talk_ to me? I want you to say what you really feel without, you know… all the hyperbole."

Admittedly, it probably sounded harsher than I intended, judging by the wounded look on his face. Instead of getting angry, though, or upset, he explained calmly, "But darling, that _is_ how I feel. I know you think it's an act, or that I'm simply putting on pretenses, but I can't say it any other way. I don't know how. The way I feel about you… it's like all my emotions, my thoughts become sublimely romantic, breathtakingly passionate… I can't reduce it or minimize it. Can you understand? The things I feel for you, there are barely words for them as is."

Throwing my arms around his neck, I began to cry. Huge, spherical tears running down my cheeks and onto his skin. "I'm sorry. I thought…" He brushed his thumb along each cheek, sweeping away the tears and the misunderstanding and I couldn't help but smile. My own insecurity had made me think he was being disingenuous. I never thought for one second that someone could actually feel those things, naturally and spontaneously, let alone about me.

"I'm sorry, too. For everything. I'm meant to make you stronger, not weaker, and I think I lost sight of that. I got so scared that you would never come home and that I'd be back to where I started…"

"Tom, I was thinking about… well, maybe we could think about counseling? Like, just for a little bit? It might help us with…"

"Our communication issues?"

I smiled, relieved. "So you thought about it, too?"

"Darling, I was thinking of anything and everything that could help. I just want us to be together and I'm so glad…" His voice trailed off for a moment as he held me close, the tightly-wound coil that was his taut body gradually loosening the longer he was in my embrace. He seemed absolutely exhausted.

"Honey are you okay? Do you need to go sit down?"

"I'll be alright. I just need to get some coffee. God… if you knew half of what I've been through trying to get here…"

"You really broke your phone?"

"Yes, I fucking dropped it and it literally shattered everywhere. The remnants are in a plastic bag in my suitcase," he revealed, smiling rather sheepishly and shaking his head. I laughed softly. "But seriously, before anything else, I really do want… no, I _need_ to tell you _everything_ about Sophie. The whole story."

"Later. Please? Right now I just want..."

"But, darling..." I lifted my head and kissed him. I wanted him to know, unequivocally, that I accepted him completely, and had moved forward. I had left Sophie in the past, and now was our future. It wasn't easy, but I didn't care. I didn't even care if she _was_ pregnant, all I cared about was that he was here, with me. When he reciprocated this time, it was much more aggressive. The moment my lips parted, he leaned in, intensifying the kiss, almost growling as his tongue filled my mouth. As if he needed to somehow reclaim me. I couldn't wait for him to do it properly. Reaching down the front of my dress, I pulled the misshapen padlock out and held it up to him. I wanted him to know I had made my decision and I didn't need any more reassurances.

His expression changed for a moment, and sadness and joy merged into a poignant half-smile. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing wistfully across his still-visible initials."I shouldn't have taken it off…" I confessed, my voice tinged with remorse.

"We'll get you a new one. It's okay, I don't blame you for doing it. But I love you so much, Elizabeth, and I can't wait to start the rest of our life together." Our lips met again, but only briefly. The movie was starting soon, so our reunion was cut short. Tom had a reserved seat for the screening, but only one because he'd originally told them he wasn't coming and when he changed his mind, they could only find one free seat. Instead, after introducing her to Tom, I let Jenny sit in his seat for part of the film and we stood in the back and watched it together, our hands entangled, lips occupied. About halfway through, Jenny and I had to go do a few things for work, so I kissed Tom and made plans to meet later. Around an hour after the credits rolled, we met up at the after party. Neither of us wanted to stay, but we felt obligated, since now that I was Tom's "official" girlfriend, everyone wanted to talk to us. Tom did introduce me to Robert and his wife, which was awesome. 

Before we left, I took Chris aside and thanked him again. Tom and I both wanted to thank him for helping us through everything, though, so we also made plans to meet him and Elsa the next evening for dinner. Chris had a silly smile on his face, so I kind of suspected Tom had something special planned, I just wasn't sure what. I didn't want to let my anticipation get out of control, so I pretended I hadn't noticed anything at all, even as they made knowing glances at each other and spoke in short, indecipherable phrases. 

Once in the limo, alone, Tom _insisted_ we talk about Sophie, and he made it particularly clear that it was not an option. I still tried to dissuade him, though. "Tom, I don't want to keep looking in the past; I know the present. That's what matters most."

He took me in his arms, his lips against my cheek. "I don't _want_ to either, but I _need_ to. I need to let it go for once and for all. Please understand?" 

I nodded, taking his hands in mine, and giving him the space to say what was on his mind. I'd already told him how I felt, and I had worked through it; he needed to as well. "Take all the time you need."

Nodding, he started off slowly, his voice calm but slightly shaky, "Chris told me you know now about her problems and I hope you really can understand why I couldn't tell you. It was not loyalty to her so much as it was trying to be sensitive to something that isn't entirely her fault, at least not always." Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut before letting his gaze fall to our clasped hands. "This is difficult for me," he conceded, almost inaudibly. He looked in my eyes and continued, his voice heartfelt, stripped bare, "Above everything else, _I am so sorry_. I should have told you, and I wish I had. I don't want to hurt you ever. It kills me to think that I did, Elizabeth. I was trying to protect you and I hurt you more. But more than that, honestly, I was trying to protect myself. And after what happened in Wisconsin… I am totally ashamed that I am guilty of the very thing I blamed you so harshly for doing, and the whole time I knew it, and I couldn't stop myself. I should have told you everything, and there's no excuse. I didn't want to lose you, and I was completely embarrassed that I had been with her so soon to when we first…" For a moment, he hesitated, dropping his shoulders and shaking his head a little, as if he was trying to shake the memory away, trying to re-set everything in his head. I gripped his hands tighter, but I didn't say anything. I just waited. Finally he started again, the determination in his voice renewed, "More than anything, I want you to know that I don't love her, and I'm sorry if I haven't been unequivocal enough before, but I'm saying it now, emphatically and unquestionably: _I don't love her, and I never did._ That isn't love, and I am grateful she hurt me. I am. Because I found you. And I love _you_."

"You didn't need to say it," I offered, my hand moving to his cheek.

"Yes, I did. And I need to prove it, too. And I will, if you'll let me." He didn't pause, though. He quickly added, "But I also need to tell you… after you left, things got worse really quickly. Sophie's gone a bit off and she's in hospital again. Forcibly, actually. I spoke with her parents and tried to explain the situation somewhat. They told me since they do a pregnancy test upon intake, they'd know pretty soon and would let me know. Hopefully, we'll hear from them by tonight or tomorrow."

"It's okay, Tom. Seriously." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I promise it will be okay."

"Elizabeth… I'm so…" He didn't have to say the word. I knew he was scared. Lips trembling, eyes pleading and glistening with tears, I had never seen him so frightened and genuinely contrite. In my anger, I hadn't thought about how absolutely terrifying this was for him, too. "I'm sorry, darling."

"No more apologies. Okay? No matter what happens, I love you. I'll make it through, and you'll make it through. I'm not leaving. I'm here."  

Gradually, we inched closer and closer. His lips floated above mine. Agonizingly patient, barely touching. At first, it was achingly romantic, and I welcomed what I assumed was a gesture of sweetness or poignancy, a desire to take things slowly. The longer we were in the car though, the more I wanted him to just totally defile me in every way. And I tried. Tried to get him to give in, to fuck me then and there. But he rebuffed each advance, no matter how forthright. When I put my hand on his thigh, he crossed his legs. I tried to unbuckle his belt, but he carefully grabbed my hand and removed it. When I whined about it, he simply smiled. Instead, he continued to just hold me and kiss me tenderly, ignoring the impatient fidgeting that accompanied my overt efforts to get him more riled up. "Be patient, darling. Patience is a virtue," he purred, allowing his lips to just graze mine. He loved to toy with me. And despite how long it had been, after being accustomed to fucking constantly, somehow he still had the self-control and restraint to wait. But I was tired of waiting. I huffed audibly, sheer frustration obvious, and his voice became somewhat stern as he scolded me, "Seems we have some re-training to do, don't we? Someone's got an attitude."

"But… I've been a really good girl," I protested, my brow furrowed. In fact, I _had_ been an incredibly good, very controlled, and ridiculously obedient girl. I still wore skirts or dresses except to sleep in, only wore stockings and garters, no pantyhose, and still kept my hair down even when it was hot and I just wanted to put it back. I didn't so much as talk to another man other than Chris unless it was work-related. I _had_ drunk alcohol on occasion, yes, but only in moderation and only in certain situations (I didn't drink at any of the Marvel social events; in fact, I only went to two other than the screening despite the fact that they had several). As he well knew, I also called him obediently every morning and every night even when we weren't doing anything but making each other miserable. And finally, and obviously the focus of the conversation, I hadn't touched myself. _At all._ A combination of things had kept me tired, and therefore, incredibly chaste: my grueling 10-14 hour-per-day work schedule, the constant phone calls, the time zone change, lack of privacy. Influential above all else, though, was my inner submissive's voice, continually reminding me that I didn't have permission, that my body did not, even still, belong to me. Even as I waited for the sky to fall and crush our little world, even as I prepared for the end and the aftermath, I still consciously made the decision not to break my vow. It was harder than I could have imagined. I'd become hyper-sexual, by design of course and through intense training. I craved sex constantly. Well, I craved sex _with Tom_ constantly. And he knew immediately what I meant the moment I said the words.

Sitting back in his seat, he cocked his head slightly, eyes narrowed in mild disbelief. " _How_ good?" he asked pointedly, and for a moment it felt like an interrogation, like he was asking for proof of my innocence or something. Blushing slightly, I looked down and began again to play with the haphazardly re-fastened padlock. Before even one word had the opportunity to leave my open mouth, he blurted out softly, "Oh my god. Darling… really?"

"I didn't h-… I haven't… I mean, I couldn't…" Eyes averted, I sucked nervously on my bottom lip, tongue-tied and frustrated. The small space of the car turned cavernous, an echoing distance growing between us and for a few moments I was lost, embarrassment filling me with apprehension. He took my hand, offering the familiar gesture of his fingertip pressed against my palm that always soothed my insecurities. I clutched his finger tightly, returning the sentiment, grateful for the momentary comfort and the return to these rituals that reinforced the foundation of our relationship. What I didn't know yet was that it wasn't only for reassurance, it was also a sort of preparation. Easing me back into my role. He was ready, despite his patient pace. He wasn't reluctant; he needed to be certain that I was ready as well.

"Why?" His voice had lowered further, but his timbre stayed warm, the vocal embers reigniting into a slow burn. As I looked up, he caught my glance. Eyeing me astutely, his gaze beyond intense, he licked his lips. A seemingly innocuous gesture at any other time perhaps, but not on this night. I was already _so_ wet, I didn't need such encouragement. Being next to him again was an aphrodisiac in and of itself, and the only one I ever needed. Conditioning. Not only to heighten my sexual responses, but also to train my body to respond automatically just at his presence, not even needing his touch or his voice. Even when my mind rejected the concept, and for whatever reason I didn't feel like having sex, my body wouldn't let me say _no_. My body was conditioned to be his, and I loved every second of it. I missed it more than anything, though I didn't realize it fully until that moment. "Tell me why. I want to hear you say it." It was far from gentle any longer; it was a command. Clear and concise.

I still couldn't look him straight in the eye, though. While I had felt perfectly comfortable when we were in each other's arms just moments before, now I felt strangely out-of-place. The flickers of embarrassment intensified, lighting up my face and body like a flash-fire. My line of vision flitted about the car, settling only on him in small increments and avoiding eye contact altogether. "You _know_ why…" I mumbled reluctantly under my breath, the words and the attitude both barely discernible. Or so I thought. 

That was all it took.

Tom's arm shot up and he seized my neck right under the chin, his large hand covering the front of my throat; thumb on one side, fingers on the other. This allowed him to control the amount of pressure against my windpipe, so that he could choke me just enough to cause discomfort, but also relax his grip to let me speak. His reaction was so fast that I yelped like a puppy. Bending his wrist, he lifted my chin up, forcing me to look at him directly.  In case I misunderstood his intentions, he intoned calmly, "Look. At. Me."

I obeyed immediately, answering, "Yes, sir," although it was hardly decipherable, despite the lessened pressure as he waited for my response. That wasn't the point though, and I knew it. 

"Now. Answer me properly, and respectfully, or you will become reacquainted with my hand in other ways as well. Is that understood, darling?"

"Yes, sir." I nodded, still unable to speak completely clearly, the pressure beginning to cause me to gag. He could tell, so he released his grip completely, the hand moving to massage my shoulder as he waited for me to correct my earlier mistake. Taking a deep breath, I admitted, my voice tremulous and raspy as my heart soared, "Because my body belongs to you, sir. I belong completely to you."

He inhaled sharply, smiling as his other hand found my waist. As he scooted closer, I could feel his hard cock straining against his trousers, now pressed into my outer thigh. His lips parted, hovering above mine, our breath mingling together as our tongues ached for communion. "Elizabeth, you have no idea how much I've longed to hear you say that again. I missed you so much. I missed _this_ so much…."

"I did, too. More than anything…" I leaned in to kiss him, but Tom interrupted me with a peck on the forehead instead. 

"Can I check my email, darling?" I nodded and handed my phone to him, a tiny bit disappointed, but knowing how important it was for both of us. I began to worry about him getting obsessed and checking every few minutes, though. I wanted our reunion to be about us, not her. But my worries were in vain. When I saw his face change, the reaction so obvious, I knew before he even handed me the phone to read the message myself. It was from Sophie's father, and it said: _"Tom- Sophie's pregnancy test was negative. On her behalf, I apologize for everything. I know she would if she could. She's resting comfortably and hopefully we'll be able to get her some consistent help this time. We do wish you all the best."_  

A mixture of shock, relief, and happiness colored his face as he sat there, looking totally overwhelmed. I hugged him, and when he looked up at me, his eyes full of tears, he didn't have to say a thing. It was truly over, and we could finally move forward unencumbered by our past mistakes. He held me tightly for a few minutes, and I just let him get everything out. At first he laughed, like an awkward, relieved sort of chuckle, but then emotion overtook him, his arms clinging to me like a lifeline. I stayed silent but reassured him of my presence, rubbing his back, comforting him. Finally, he allowed a few tears to be the final curtain to fall on the subject. So did I. And then, we let it go.

We held each other for the remainder of the car ride. When we arrived at the hotel, he relaxed, and a grin spread across his face. "Come, darling. Let's go. I've been waiting for this moment for a very long time."

I didn't know exactly what moment he meant, either sex or just that we were finally reunited, but I didn't care. When the driver opened the door, we were at the very famous and incredibly fancy Bel Air Hotel. There was a manager waiting to greet us (well, not me of course). He informed Tom, just quietly enough to make it look secretive but still loudly enough so that I could hear pretty clearly, "Everything is ready, Mr. Hiddleston". It seemed planned, this supposedly accidental divulging of information. I looked over at Tom, but he merely flashed that little smirk and took me by the hand. 

The manager escorted us to our room but promptly left before Tom opened the door. Once we were alone, Tom retrieved a black silk scarf from his jacket's inside pocket. "Turn around, darling."

"Tom, tell me what's going on… please?" My voice clearly edging into pouting territory, I stayed put, refusing to move.

"I won't say it again," he warned, his tone a tad stern, but the smile hadn't wavered. No, actually he was _beaming_. I thought his dimples might open to another dimension. 

I turned around as ordered and Tom covered my eyes, tying the fabric at the back of my head, careful to keep from snagging my hair as he knotted it snugly. Taking my hand, he led me inside. We walked much farther than I was expecting, even though I did anticipate we were in a suite of some sort, judging by the location. I could hear a door sliding open, and then Tom said, "Mind your step, darling," as he continued to guide me forward. We only walked a few more steps, though, and he stopped. We were obviously outside, judging from the cooler temperature and the ambient noise of the California canyons resonating in my ears. The distinct smell of night-blooming jasmine swam leisurely through the indolent sky, but I had to imagine the view. I tried to envision the hazy starlit sky above us, the moon reflecting in Tom's irises.

Anxiously, I began to chew on my bottom lip and my hands started to tremble slightly. Leaving the blindfold on, he kissed me, his tongue parting my lips as if it were the first time, and I opened up to him, standing there helpless, relying on him for guidance despite my inhibitions. As he pulled me closer though, intensifying the kiss and pressing against me, I finally asked him, "Please can I take the blindfold off, now?" Hearing nothing, I added, "Sir?"

"No, sweetheart. I really need you to keep it on."

He seemed to walk away for a moment, but just as soon he was back, and he kissed me again, albeit only for a moment. "Tom…"

"Shh…" I stood there somewhat awkwardly, a tad befuddled, a lot disoriented. I waited, now shaking outright. He pressed his finger to my palm once again and I clutched readily and desperately. "Elizabeth…" The sound of an exhaled breath, shaky and determined, and he took my other hand, each of us now holding on so tightly, as if to guarantee we'd never be separated again. When he started to speak, I just knew. I knew like we were one person, one mind, one thought. "I love you so much, darling. You are my perfect girl and you make me happier than I thought possible. You are everything I'd always yearned for, everything that I knew was missing inside my heart and soul. I loved you before I even met you, before I even knew who you were and before I knew the slightest thing about myself. But you've given me that. You've taught me how to love myself, because you allowed me to love you, and in the process, make every possible mistake and yet somehow you still love me, you're still here and _I'm so grateful_. Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you for being the strong, intelligent, beautiful, giving, loving, supportive, utterly brilliant woman that you are. Thank you for loving me, even though I know it must be so difficult…"

"Oh my god, Tom…"

"Everything that I am at this moment, everything I've become, is because you trust me. Everything I will be in the future is because you gave me the ability to trust myself."

"Tom…"

"Shh… " Only the sound of him catching his breath, and in the distance, a coyote's feral howl, a call of anguish and hunger. His hand tightened. _Oh my god. Oh my god._ "I trust you implicitly. I hope I've shown you that. Can you trust me, Elizabeth?"

"Of course I can. I do," I replied tremulously, the words almost getting lost in the swell of emotion, my heart and lungs ready to burst . All I could do was hold his hand and do exactly that: trust.

"Are you sure?"

"Completely…" Trailing off, I began to cry quietly, the tears absorbed by the cloth covering my eyes. 

" _Tie your heart at night to mine, love, and both will defeat the darkness…_ " He took my free hand and pressed it to his cheek, and I could feel him begin to lower himself in front of me. He was kneeling. A sound of surprise and excitement leapt from my throat before I could even form a thought to stifle it. As I stood there, sightless and completely disoriented, his body was the only thing keeping me centered, keeping me from losing my sense of balance and place. My hand still against his cheek, I could feel a few tears moistening my fingertips. A feeling of pure bliss washed over me, an absolute cascade of joy. I couldn't believe this was happening. His voice turned breathless as he formed the words that changed my life forever: "Together, darling, we can overcome anything, I know we can. I love you more than the world. Elizabeth, will you please do me the honor of allowing me to become your husband?"

I sobbed, a heaving, coughing, joyous and yet overwhelming sob, but it was the only delay. I responded immediately, "Yes, Tom. Of course I will…" but it disintegrated into a soft and steady release of emotion, an elongated gasp turning to cries of happiness, mixing together to create a sound of pure joy. Smiling, I could feel him put the ring on my finger, but I couldn't see it, so I asked again, "But please…"

"Shh… Just wait, darling." After the ring was on, he stayed on his knees in front of me, embracing me, kissing my abdomen, his hands gliding underneath my dress and up to the small of my back. Patiently, he unclipped my garters from my stockings, allowing them to slide down just enough, his thumbs slipping underneath to help before brushing almost imperceptibly against my still-covered wetness. Hooking his fingers into my panties, he started to tug them down slowly, his hands caressing me as he did. The moisture from his breath penetrated through my dress' flimsy material, and, like a pebble dropped in a placid pond, set off ripples of pleasure, submerging me in passionate waves . 

"Oh god, I can't…please let me…"

"Shh… not yet, darling."

"But I….

"Trust me," he implored softly. "Do you trust me?" Exhaling a lengthened, uneven breath, I tried to still my emotions and my nerves. I paused momentarily before I nodded, giving him complete control. The combination of emotions and sensations, coupled with the lack of vision, overwhelmed me already, and he'd barely even started. My body moaned with desire, my heart screamed with joy, and yet, I stayed quiet. I bit my lip, but I stayed silent and obedient. My doubts gone, my soul his, and I knew I would never look back again.

Once he got my panties all the way down, he helped me step out of them before embracing me, his hands cupping my buttocks and pulling me closer. He pushed my dress up just enough to let him kiss my bare skin. Above my clitoris, he rested his lips for a moment, waiting. Slowly, a controlled exhalation and yet I could feel his thoughts. Feel his desperation. His breath was so hot, laden with weeks of desire, weeks of aching hunger and no true satisfaction. I shivered. The slight chill of the evening contrasted against the resonating warmth of his open mouth. Both of us now so desirous, both bodies emanating waves of heat against the chilly darkness of the evening. A tiny whimper, and finally he opened his mouth and kissed, savoring the taste of just my skin before he let his tongue glide down along the tiny nub. He didn't stop, instead venturing down as far as he could reach.

Gasping first, before my throat began to make little wordless pleas, a barely-audible chorus of moans and whimpers, my own desires now incredibly evident. This position, standing with no support save Tom's strong hands, was difficult and only added to my desperation. I was trembling uncontrollably, my legs shaking and my knees buckling, which was challenging enough, but the blindfold only made me more on edge. I had to rely completely on Tom for balance. I had to trust him utterly. It was the perfect demonstration of his love and mine, the perfect way to usher in this new part of our life. His arms never faltered, even as he began to push his tongue inside me and I grabbed his hair for support. My head thrown back, I clutched him to me, imploring him deeper, harder, faster. He obliged, saying nothing but lifting one leg over his shoulder before I could even form a cogent thought of protest. But somehow, I knew he wouldn't let go. Somehow, even as I could feel his arms shudder and his fingers dig into me, striving to keep me in his grasp, I knew he wouldn't let me fall. And the slow, steady coaxing of his tongue set me free.

My entire body went slack as I was allowed exquisite release, my back arching so much Tom had to lower me to the cold ground. But he didn't stop. He kept going, insistently and patiently at once, keeping me on that line of frenzied need and gently but firmly nudging me past it. Past that point of numbness when the throbbing and pressure seem unbearable, past the culmination of agonizing tension. Right before the blood begins to pump furiously again, the torturous discomfort and impossible tautness. Until the renewal, the point when it all comes back, it all flows again, the apex of agony becomes a cascade of liberation. And he led me there. Beyond the point of pleasure, beyond the point of trust, just complete, breathtaking freedom as I gave myself wholly to him. No resistance, no questions, no fear. Total submission.

He clasped his hand over my mouth as I cried out, my muffled voice still echoing in the cold open air. When his movements subsided, he moved up, laying his body on top of mine and kissing me. The taste of my desire was still wet on his trembling lips, salty and sweet. He was shivering, and so was I. Finally he reached up and, cradling my neck with his hand, gingerly untied the blindfold. As it slipped off and our eyes met, I truly felt as if the world stopped and everything at that moment existed for us alone. But then, when I looked around, the entire terrace was dark save for two perfect lines of candles, lighting the way through the darkness. It was a path, a path not only towards the room, but to a new life. This was our new beginning.

Neither of us spoke and our gazes never wavered, even as he undid his trousers and slid into me. He didn't move, for a good minute or two, but stayed perfectly still, buried inside me, his hands framing my face as he kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth. All remaining tears disappeared. We were one. It was merely a formality, this final part. As would be the new collar, our jobs, counseling, the wedding, and every other future event for us, just as this penetration was, a formality to let our bodies become one literally just as we already were in every other way. And as he began to thrust, his lips never moving from mine, he whispered into my mouth, an unceasing litany of love and passion, both poetic and raw, and I inhaled every one, the words filling me as he did, a reaffirmation of our union: "Elizabeth, I love you. I'm yours and you're mine, you're mine, you're mine…"


End file.
